Darkest Days
by Raven Lee
Summary: Gambit needs a little vacation, however the resort town he chooses has it's own dark history. Just added the second chapter
1. Sillent Hill

Disclamer-I don't own any of it, it all belongs to someone else. I'm just playing with it for a little while, for entertainment only.  
  
Feedback to writers is like water to flowers, so water a writer today!  
  
  
Darkest Days  
Raven Lee  
July 2002  
  
Chapter One  
Silent Hill  
  
~~Bobby~~  
~~Day One~~  
  
Darkness slid around the car as if a black sheet had been pulled over all the windows. The high beams of the ice blue Honda Accord didn't cut through the pitch as well as the driver might have hoped, but at least it wasn't raining anymore.  
  
The drive from New York had been a somewhat uneventful one, though the whole trip was cast into a depressive state when the only landscape that could be seen was through sheets of heavy rain. And, of course, we mustn't forget that the radio stopped working sometime around the tenth hour of driving. Two miserable hours of hearing nothing but rain thudding on the ceiling caused the young driver to start rattling off stupid jokes to himself and trying to quote whole scenes from movies.  
  
As the rain suddenly disappeared, replaced with the deep veil of blackness, Bobby Drake began to wonder if he was going insane. Laughing at his own jokes and singing whole songs from Disney movies wasn't something grown men Bobby's age did. Of course, he had to admit to himself, most men weren't like him anyway.  
  
What other person, man or woman, did he know that would follow his friend, and sometimes lover, to some unknown little resort town in the middle of goddamned nowhere when said friend had basicly told him to stay the fuck away? Okay, so *may*be some people would do that. But not many, damn it!  
  
Bobby smiled at his thoughts. Gambit was going to get some company even if it killed one of them.  
  
Strangely enough, his thoughts would soon become reality and his ultimatum would be put to the test. He wasn't aware of this, of course, as he passed the sign welcoming him into Silent Hill.  
  
***  
  
~~Bobby~~  
~~The Night Before~~  
  
Bobby paced around his and Gambit's small room, sometimes staring at the imaginary path he was making in the carpet, other times eyeing the two suitcases on the bed. Not once did he look up at Remy who silently folded and placed clothes into the suitcases. "I don't know why you have to go," Bobby said softly, when what he really wanted to ask was why Remy didn't want him to come with him. The question was left unasked, but it hung in the air, not really needing to be voiced.  
  
The Cajun thief said nothing, but his back stiffened a little and he clinched the silk shirt in his hands so tightly it was doubtful that the wrinkles would ever come out. Bobby stopped pacing and looked up at him, slowly, moving his eyes from his own feet, across the floor and up Gambit's length. He only strayed at his lover's ass for a moment before looking at his face. The other X-Man's face was turned away from him, looking down into his suitcase as if the answers to the world's questions would suddenly jump out at him.  
  
Bobby took the two steps that would put him almost against Remy and put his hand on his back, lightly. Remy sagged back against him, leaning into him, letting Bobby wrap his arms around him from behind and hold him close. The younger of the two men nuzzled his lover's neck, breathing in the scent of him. Remy's heavy beard was coming in even though he had shaved that morning and the smell of the after shave he always used was almost all gone, leaving Bobby with the scent that was pure Cajun male.  
  
"I don't want you to go," Bobby rubbed his cheek against Remy's shoulder, still not voicing the question that hung above them. Remy in turn leaned his head back against Bobby's shoulder, devil eyes staring up at the ceiling. His head shook slightly from side to side, a silent no. Gambit hadn't spoken much since returning from Antarctica, his few words were only spoken when necessary, and Bobby was the only one graced with the sound of his voice. That he wouldn't speak now worried the young man a little, but not overly much. He worried more about Remy being alone for two weeks than he did about his lover not speaking to him.  
  
Since finding him passed out on the bathroom floor, an empty bottle of painkillers beside him, Bobby had been afraid to let him out of his sight.  
He didn't *really* think Remy would actually kill himself, but sometimes…sometimes he *seemed* like he wanted to. Like now. He was quiet and moody, and it seemed like he was sinking deeper and deeper into a depressive state. He *didn't* need to be off by himself doing God only knows what in some dinky little town Bobby'd never heard of, damn it!  
  
Almost as if he was aware of what Bobby was thinking Remy turned around in his arms to look deep into his eyes, searching his soul. The younger man was lost, staring into the seemingly endless deaths of Remy's eyes. The Cajun's mouth captured Bobby's before he even realized what was happening, tongue sweeping between his lips, moving over his teeth, the roof of his mouth, and finally thrusting against his own tongue, coaxing it into battle.  
  
Bobby's grip tightened a little around his waist, fighting in the kiss for a little bit of control, trying to explore Gambit's mouth as much as he had his. God, he loved the way he tasted. Cigarettes and the faint taste of alcohol combined with the taste that could only be defined as Gambit.  
  
A knock on the door broke the pair apart. They stared at each other for a long moment, smiles creeping up on both of their faces, before Bobby went to open the door; stepping outside so no one would see into the room he wasn't supposed to be sharing with Gambit.   
  
Hank stood in the hallway, twirling his car keys around his finger.  
Midnight twinky run.   
He wanted to know if Bobby wanted anything, or wanted to go with him. The somewhat hopeful look on his friend's fuzzy blue face made Bobby realize how much he had been neglecting everyone except Remy the last few weeks. It wasn't fair, really, and no one knew why he was doing it.  
  
He shook his head, giving a lame excuse about not feeling so well and wanting to get some sleep. Hank walked off, after giving him a doubtful look and trying to get him to open his mouth and say "Ah," off to go hunt for someone else to share in the routine that used to be just between the two friends.  
  
Drake returned to the room with a sigh, leaning back against the door.  
Remy's suitcases lay on the floor by the bed, packed and ready, he supposed. He looked at them and let out an even louder sigh.  
  
"Cher?" Remy asked softly, his voice husky and sensual as always. Bobby's eyes slowly drifted over to him then widened in surprise. Remy lay stretched on the bed; his clothes tossed somewhere on the other side of the room, only his boxers kept him from being nude. One hand was on his stomach, fingers playing lightly over the curls of hair that disappeared under the soft, red silk of his underwear.  
  
Bobby groaned softly, moving over to him. "God, Remy." He fell to his knees on the bed, leaning over him to kiss him again. Remy's arms slid around him, pulling him down on his length. The hardness of his erection pressed into his stomach, not that he minded much as he deepened the kiss. He would, however, have liked that part of his lover's body to be trying to bury itself somewhere else other than his belly button.  
  
He got his wish as Remy started to slowly strip him of his Hawaiian shirt and jeans. Before he knew it, all of his clothes lay in heap on the floor and the silk of Remy's boxers was getting to be annoying. "Off," he said as he tugged at the waistband lightly, then slipped his hand inside. The boxers were nothing compared to the silky feel of Remy's manhood.  
  
The older man chuckled, leaning up to push his underwear off while Bobby reached, one handed, for the tube of KY sitting on the nightstand. Once the boxers were tossed away, Bobby rubbed the lube in both hands then wrapped them both around Remy's cock, stroking him gently.  
  
Remy leaned down again, capturing Bobby's mouth in a kiss so passionate it curled his toes. Soon, their would-be augment forgotten, soft moans of pleasure and the sweet aroma of sex and sweat filled the room as their bodies merged to form a new entity.  
  
***  
  
~~Remy~~  
  
Later, as they lay in a tangled heap of arms, legs, and sheets, Remy stared up at the ceiling, listening to Bobby's deep, even breaths. His hand idly roamed slowly up and down the younger man's back, enjoying the soft feel of his skin. Bobby's body pressed against his was a nice feeling too. He enjoyed finally be able to hold onto someone he loved…or thought he loved at least.  
  
Love was a hard word for Remy to grasp. Once upon a time, he'd loved Belle.  
That had just been wrong, and nothing more needed to be said about it. He loved Rogue, but she left him. He still loved her, somewhere, deep inside of his being, but it was a colder love. He'd rather watch her withering in pain at his feet now then embrace her. Especially after in the incident with the sleeping pills.   
He loved Bobby, but it was a different kind of love from the kinds before.  
  
He'd been with other men before, many of them, actually. Sex was just sex.  
It didn't matter if the partner was male or female, just so long as the pleasure was the same, the oncoming climax and the release of everything that had gone wrong that day. That's the only thing sex was good for, to be used to forget the bad things and concentrate only on finding your release.  
With men, it was come or not. Most men he'd been with didn't care if their partner came, just so long as they had their own orgasm.  
  
Bobby was different. In everything, Bobby was different. He'd never had a lover so…loving. So aware of Remy's needs as well as his own. Not even one women out of the many he had had was as loving as Bobby. Jean-Luc LeBeau's youngest son always seemed to be attracted to the kind of people who used him then spat him out. Case in point? Belle. Then Rogue.  
  
Remy shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and turned it to look at the clock. Glowing red numbers changed from 4:59 to 5:00 as he watched. He could stay here, just as he was with the warmth of the other man's body pressed against his side. If the world ended that day, he'd be able to die a happy man if he could just stay there a few more minutes smelling Bobby's shampoo.   
  
Luckily for him, as far as he knew, the world wasn't going to end today.  
Slowly sliding out of the bed, only disturbing Bobby a little, Remy got up and dressed. His suitcases were packed; the brochure for Silent Hill that had come in the mail laid on top. The picture on front showed a sleepy little resort town beside a huge lake surrounded by a forest of tall, snow covered furs.  
  
He picked his suitcases up and started for the door, but didn't open it.  
A vacation was something he really needed right then. He needed a calm, peaceful place to rest, to clear his thoughts, and get them straightened out. New Orleans was out of the question, and there was no way in hell he could stay here. Not here with Rogue and her accusing looks.  
  
Leaning his head against the door, he closed his eyes. He didn't want to leave Bobby. The young man was the best thing to have come into his life in a long time. Leaving without even saying goodbye didn't sit well. Of course, at the time, making love had been Gambit's way of saying good-bye, and, in its own way, a promise to come back and do it again.  
  
After sitting the suitcases down beside the door and tucking the resort brochure into his pocket so he wouldn't forget to take it, he moved back over to the bed, kneeling down beside it. "Bobby?" he whispered, brushing hair out of the younger man's face. Bobby turned his head, leaning into his touch. A rare smile played over Remy's lips, his eyes lighting up. "I 'ave t' go, Mon ami," he leaned down and brushed his lips over his cheek lightly. Bobby made a soft sound and turned his head again, his lips finding Remy's, begging for a real kiss. He gave him one, a deep, lingering kiss, before sitting back on his heel to look at him.  
  
Drake hadn't even cracked an eye open at the kiss. A huge smile spread across his face, but he slept on. Remy almost chuckled…almost. At least one of them should have good dreams.  
  
"Good bye, Mon…chari," he smiled again. "Don' worry 'bout me. Remy'll be back soon." He kissed his lips again, softly this time, then got up and left before he could change his mind.  
  
***  
  
~~Bobby~~  
  
When Bobby woke up, Remy was gone. The digital clock on the nightstand read six o'clock. ~Bathroom,~ he told himself, ~Remy's just gone to the bathroom. He'll be back in a sec.~ Grabbing Remy's pillow, he turned on his side to stare a sleepy hole through the door until his lover came back.  
Meanwhile, he buried his nose into the pillow.  
Gambit's sent lingered on it.  
  
He smiled, hugging it, images of their first night of passion flowing through his mind. The smile wavered, then disappeared all together and he quickly sat up, dropping the pillow. The suitcases were gone. Remy's suitcases had been right there, beside the bed, and now they were gone.  
  
"Damn it!" he hissed, jumping to his feet. The brochure for Silent Hill lay opened beside the clock on the nightstand, the check-in times for the Lake View Hotel were written in Remy's neat handwriting next to the picture of one of the hotel's rooms. He'd written down the room and phone number to where he'd be staying. "Call me only if you need me." The "only" was underlined three times.  
  
Bobby stared at the brochure for a long moment.  
  
After last night, after the passion they had shared, the intense pleasure of it all, what the hell gave Remy the right to leave without saying so much as a good bye?  
Before he even realized what he was doing, Bobby was up and dressed, tossing his clothes into his suitcase. He started to re-think the idea when he had to sit down on the damned thing to attempt to get it to close. Remy shouldn't be left alone, he knew that, but what if he really didn't want *Bobby* there with him? What if this whole thing was his way of telling Bobby to go fuck himself?  
  
The young man sat on the bed for a long time, debating with himself over whether or not he should go. By the time his '87 Honda Accord pulled out of the mansion driveway, an hour had passed. He left without his cell phone and without leaving a note for his fellow X-Men, his mind too busy warring over other things to even consider that they might miss him.  
  
***  
  
~~Silent Hill~~  
  
Once upon a time, darkness and fog ruled the world. Darkness so deep, light could barely penetrate it, and a fog so heavy, even the sun's forceful rays couldn't pierce it. Then, one day, the fog just lifted. Sunlight filtered down through the trees for the first time in many years. It rose over buildings old with rust and falling apart, streets covered in blood and dotted with cave-ins, and a lake that had taken its share of people down into its watery grave…so many terrible deaths…  
  
He stood on the dock at the boat launch, staring over Toluca Lake. For a long time, the hotel on the other side could not be seen from this side of the lake. Now, as the sun set behind the burnt ruins of the hotel, He could see the last remnants of His…children wandering around in the dying light.  
Their mangled bodies glistened with electrical energy as they slowly dragged themselves into the lake. Like lemmings, one by one His children disappeared into the dark water, returning to the prison's graveyard where He had called for them. All around town, the monstrosities He created came back to their watery tomb. Even those whose "life" had been taken from them stood and returned to the depths of hell.  
  
Only a few remained. A handful out of the hundreds. He left them, left them to do His bidding, keeping them asleep until the time for them to awaken came. For now, He had other things to attend, other children to create.  
  
His town needed to be rebuilt.  
  
He raised His hands to the sky, the Crimson Ceremony, a book bound in the flesh of the dead, in one hand, His spear, smeared with the dried blood of hundreds, in the other.  
He spoke then, in a language older than time. His words sailed over the lake, carried by the wind over the dead town, calling forces from Hell to come and do His will. The buildings, covered in rust, rot, and decay, became new again. The blood soaked newspaper that covered windows in many shops was torn down by unseen hands, the windows becoming clear once more.  
The dark, brown/red stains of blood were lifted from the streets where the straight-jacket clad demons had been left to rot, while the roads that had been caved-in repaired themselves.  
  
Silent Hill began to breathe life again, the heart of the small resort town began to beat wildly once more. People slowly crept from their houses, staring wondrously at the moon as it rose in the sky.  
  
The headlights of a yellow Porsche cut through the darkness, driving slowly down Nathan Avenue past the Silent Hill Historical Society and the boat launch beyond where He stood. He lowered His hands, turning his massive head to watch the car drive on toward the hotel in Paleville.  
  
He turned with the car, watching from the distance as it pulled into the Lake View parking lot. The car pulled in next to one of the seven which had just appeared there before the driver's coming.  
  
Tucking the Crimson Ceremony into the belt of his blood stained apron, He turned from His view point. Creatures similar to him crawled from the waters below, but they, unlike him, did not keep their shape. Slowly, carefully, his mind worked over each one of them, they shifted. Changing into their new form.  
  
They followed Him into the meat packing plant located beside the boat launch, followed him into the darkened hallway beyond, into the labyrinth and prison that had been His home for countless years. His birthplace.  
  
His army followed him, red eyes glowing from white faces while black leather scraped along the ground behind them. They followed and then they waited, patently for when they would be used.  
  
TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
See Ya!  
Rave  
  
The my fics can be located at Full Moon Rapture http://www.dreamwater.net/ravenlee/index.html  
  
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	2. Of Fire and Ice

Darkest Days  
Raven Lee  
July 2002  
  
  
Chapter Two  
Of Fire and Ice  
  
~~Remy~~  
~~Night One~~  
  
  
A girl with bright green hair and a hundred earrings in one ear looked up from where she sat behind the desk in the lobby. Her blue eyes traveled from his feet to his face and back again, lingering over his better places. "Can I help you?" she asked, snapping her gum and turning her eyes back to her magazine. She apparently hadn't cared much for what she'd seen.  
  
Though this would normally annoy Remy and force him to turn on the charm, at the moment he really couldn't care less. He was tired, sick of traveling, and his legs felt like Jell-O from being stuck in his damned little sports car that offered hardly any leg room. After the fifth hour, he'd started to wish he had just swiped Logan's Jeep for the trip.  
  
"I 'ave res'vations, Chere," he said, wryly, looking at her. "Un'er LeBeau."  
  
She stared at him for a long moment, blue eyes turning hard and icy. "Yeah," she said, handing him a key, a false smile plastered on her face "Third floor, beside the observation room. Room 313. It's kinda late and I'm the only one minding the desk, so you'll have to get your luggage yourself." She pointed to the door he'd come in. "There's an elevator to your left as you walk out the door. Have a nice evening...sir," after putting emphasis on "sir," she ignored his presents and went back to her magazine.  
  
Remy sighed, pocketing his key. Why was he here again? Oh yeah. Nice people. Relaxation. If the rest of the town's people were like this kid, he'd have kill himself in the shower by the end of the week.  
  
A rueful smile crossed his face briefly. He didn't have a death wish, even though Bobby thought he'd meant to end his life that day when he'd found him on the bathroom floor. He hadn't. Someone had switched his sleeping pills and his aspirin. When confronted, all the color in Rogue's face had faded. He'd told her to stay the fuck away from him, which she had done...for a while, at least.  
  
When she caught him sneaking into Bobby's room a few weeks later, she'd told him she was sorry and actually hoped they were happy together. It was a surprise to both of them that she hadn't told anyone else what she'd found out. It was less of a surprise, however, when she disappeared a few days later.  
  
"She realized she can't have you now," Bobby had whispered to him jokingly one night as they lay wrapped in each other's arms. "She found out who the better *man* is." Remy had laughed with him, happily. Yeah, he'd actually been happy. Was still happy, to tell the truth. Bobby has been his lifesaver, thrown to him while he drowned in a sea of snow and ice. He had even started talking again. To Storm, and then Logan, both understanding his plight.  
  
He'd thought that Logan would be the hardest one to talk to...well, with the exception of Warren, but then, he and Angel had never been close. Not like he and Wolverine. But Logan had been easy to talk to. At least...he was after their knock down, drag out fight in the danger room. After that, he'd sat against the wall, listening as Remy softly talked, tears running down his cheeks, telling him why he'd done the things he'd done.  
  
Logan understood. He'd done things in his past he wasn't happy about either. "Hell, kid," he'd told Remy later while sucking on the end on a fat cigar, "Every one o' us's done shit in our past that gives us nightmares at night. Ain't a damn one of us who c'n throw stones."  
  
After that, Remy had started getting his life together again. He gained back all the weight he lost, started a daily exercise regimen, he'd even gone out on two missions with the rest of the team. And at night, he would come back to his room and Bobby would be waiting for him.  
  
The young man, more than anyone else, helped him keep his sanity. Bobby helped bring him out of his darkest days; the days when he felt hollow, just a shell of the man he used to be. Bobby was like a night light at the end of a darkened hallway: always there, always willing to wait for him to get out of his moods, never fading.  
  
Everything was getting better. Getting back to normal.  
  
And then Rogue returned.  
  
He ran into her one morning while he was out jogging before Bobby woke up. She flew down in front of him, causing him to come to a skidding stop, which had him falling back on his ass. His old love hung there in midair. She never spoke, only looked at him. Stared, actually, with those large green eyes. Fire burned behind those eyes. Hate. And something else... Sadness maybe? Hurt? Remorse? No. None of those fit. Her eyes burned with a need. She wanted him dead. He could see it.  
  
She followed him around, sometimes. Followed him around the mansion, out in the woods while he was taking walks. She'd even followed him into town a time or two. Obviously regretting that the sleeping pills hadn't killed him.  
  
That's when he decided he needed to get away. Needed to be away from everything, and everyone. Just for a little while. He'd thought about asking Bobby to come with him, but something inside him told him not to. Maybe he needed time to think over their relationship...needed time to figure out how he felt about the young X-Man. But it didn't...feel right leaving him behind...  
  
Sighing heavily, Remy pulled out his two suitcases from the back of the car and looked over at the lake. The dark waters were calm, not a single ripple of them. The sound of soft splashing caught his ears, the water sweeping along the shore line. Even in the dark he could see how beautiful Taloca Lake was. The lights from the sleepy town across the water sparkled in the gloom. He smiled then, softly, as he shut the trunk. The brochure was right about the town its self. It was indeed beautiful. A great place to relax.  
  
Remy desperately needed to relax.  
  
Forsaking the elevator the green haired night clerk had told him about, Remy easily climbed three flights of stairs, suitcases in hand. The old hotel had 20'sish decor. Classic. Classy. He liked it, it kind of reminded him of some of the older rooms in Jean-Luc LeBeau's large home. His room was done up in different shades of red and black with a little white thrown in here and there. It was spacious, with a little living area, complete with two black sofas and a TV, off to the side of the bedroom. There was also a kitchenette and dinning area with a mini bar. ~Nice,~ he thought. ~All the comforts of home without the stares of people who despise you.~   
  
He dropped the suitcases on the floor then dropped himself on the bed, arms stretched out across the bed. The black and white quilt was soft and comfortable, the bed lumpless. Ah, Heaven.   
  
Almost.  
  
He was already missing something.  
  
~Bobby.~ His lover's name crossed his mind, causing his heart to thump loudly in his chest. A ping of guilt sank his heart after a moment. No, Bobby wasn't going to spend this vacation with him, and once again he wondered why he hadn't asked him to come along.  
  
A heavy sigh issued out of him as he crawled up fully onto the bed, laying his head on one pillow and pulling the other over to hug against his chest. The pillow wasn't Bobby. Hell, it didn't even help. He tossed it to the other side of the room where it knocked over a lamp.  
  
Damnit, what was wrong with him? Why *hadn't* he asked Bobby to come with him? What was more relaxing then a little nookie in a private hotel room where they could be as loud as they wanted? Or a nice walk around the lake holding hands with a person who meant so much to him?   
  
Needed time to think over their relationship? Bah. That was bullshit. Remy was pushing him away, just like he had pushed everyone else he'd ever loved away. What if he got back and Bobby was so angry with him that he wouldn't take him back?  
  
The Cajun thief rolled onto his back, staring up at the black lacquered blades of the ceiling fan as they slowly rounded their base.  
  
~I'm calling Bobby,~ he thought as his eyes locked on and followed one of the blades around and around. ~Tell him where I am, he can get here tomorrow. Then it would be a good vacation.~  
  
Smoke brought him out of his thoughts. He sat up, coughing, looking around, trying to find where it was coming from. It was all around him, thick, choking smoke that had suddenly filled the room.  
  
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm went off. Its wail turned his body cold and for a moment, he couldn't move. He sat there on the red and black quilt, aralyzed with an uncontrollable fear.  
  
~Stop it, LeBeau! You've been through worse!~ He slid off the bed, falling down onto the floor. But, instead of finding white Berber carpet there, he found snow. White, freezing cold, wet snow. Remy shuddered, blinking his eyes. The smoke was so thick, he couldn't see. It assaulted his nostrils, brought tears to his eyes, and burned his lungs, yet he was freezing to death.   
  
The snow was piling thicker around him. It was cold, yet he was surrounded by the red flickering tongues of fire. Fire, everywhere. Fire and Ice. Cold and hot, mingled, bringing to mind the images of Hell from the Bible and the images he knew to be the real Hell.  
  
Something shiny caught his attention while he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He looked up and a pair a skinny bare legs met him. His eyes followed the legs up, but they saw nothing beyond a sudden blur of movement and the light catching the silver of the knife. Hot pain stabbed at his throat. His blood spilt freely, dropping onto the snow. Red merged with sold, pure white.  
  
He fell backwards, clutching his ripped throat, blood seeping between his fingers.  
  
Remy sat straight up in bed, his hands clinching black squares in the quilt. Sweat poured down from his face, his shirt was drenched and his hair clung to his forehead. It was the first time he'd had a dream like that since that first fearful month after he had returned from Antarctica. The first one since he'd started sleeping with Bobby.  
  
The lingering smell of smoke still assaulted his nostrils as he sat there, trying to catch his breath and calm the rapid beating of his heart. He blinked tears and sweat from his eyes, a sob racking his body. Curling up on his side in the fetal position, he cried. He cried until all of his tears dried up. "Why are you hauntin' me?" he whispered softly, wiping at his cheeks. "Why c'n' you let me be?"  
  
  
***  
~~Bobby~~  
  
  
  
Bobby leaned forward in his seat, arms crossed over the stirring wheel. He peered out the windshield at the water that lapped at the bank a hundred yards from the hotel parking lot.  
  
Tuluca lake was the color of motor oil in the moonlight, and the smell coming from the open window was decaying something or other. Yeth. It smelled like something crawled in a hole and died.  
  
The town was asleep. Only two lights could be seen on in the houses across the lake, yet it was only ten o'clock. What kind of resort town closed everything at 10 at night? Hell, what kind of people went to *bed* that early? Of course, it could be like what Hank used to tell him while they were still students, what was it? Early to bed, early to rise, makes the bird get worms? Um...yeah...something like that.  
  
Bobby leaned back, wincing slightly. His ass was asleep. He didn't think that such a thing could be possible, but his ass was most definitely asleep. He rubbed it as he got out of the car and pulled his suitcase out of the back seat. Heading up to the entrance of the hotel, the young man's mind drifted to thoughts of a nice long screw against the wall.  
  
Bobby was thinking about the drink, of course. The hotel brochure *had* said they had a bar that stayed open late. Of course, if Remy wasn't pissed and was up to what the drink's name suggested, that would be even better. Even if the bar was closed and Remy was so pissed he'd never talk to him again, Bobby would be happy to settle for a TV. He needed *some* kind of entertainment after all. Singing Disney tunes to himself just hadn't cut it.  
  
There was a map of the hotel pinned up on the wall beside the entrance doors. Bobby found Remy's room on it and headed for the elevator after taking a peek in the huge lobby through the opened double doors and seeing that no one was at the registration desk. The air from the elevator was stale and smelled faintly of smoke. It was also old and clinked and clanked as it went up, shaking slightly.  
  
"Okay," he jumped out of the ancient machinery as soon as the doors opened. "I am *not* getting in that thing again," he grumbled softly to himself, walking down the hall to 313. There were sounds coming from room 312. A woman crying, a man yelling. The door to that room looked older than the others, the white paint was pealing off in strips, and the bottom was discolored from water damage. All along wall water, and possibly fire, damage, pealed the red and white wallpaper up from the baseboards. And the carpet, the color of dried blood, was...squishy under his feet, as if the floor would crumble out from under him any moment and he would go tumbling down to the floor below.  
  
Halfway down the hallway, though, past the door marked Observation Room, the corridor began to look...new again. The carpet, though still the color of dried blood, looked new, brighter, as if it had just been laid. The wallpaper as well looked new...well, new*er*. He was actually able to make out the harlequin pattern. Even the musty damp smells seemed to almost disappear.  
  
The dramatic change from one half of the corridor to the other barely registered in Bobby's mind as his hand hovered in front of the door to Remy's room. All he had to do was knock and the door would open. Remy would be there...happy or pissed.  
  
A thin panel of wood stood between Bobby Drake and everything he had ever wanted at that moment. On one hand, if he knocked and the Remy he knew opened the door, his face surprised happy at seeing him there, odds were they'd end up having hot nookie all night long. On the other hand, of course, was the Remy LeBeau Bobby didn't want to see. The one whose bright red and black eyes were haunted...angry. If he knocked and that Remy opened the door...would there be hope for them tomorrow?  
  
His hand hung in mid air, shaking. He'd come this far, had been so damned determined to be here with his lover but...now... Doubt came like a dark cloud over his mind, throwing him into a pit of despair. Remy could be so mad at him being here that he'd never touch him again. Never look at him. Shit. Look at what had happened to Rogue. She left and never came back. Remy's love was a great thing to have while you could hold it. But his hate could be so deep, so burning...  
  
The door knob jingled under Bobby's hand. He jumped back with a yelp, falling against the opposite wall. The knob jingled again and Remy could be heard on the other side of his door, though his voice was muffled slightly, cussing. He banged on it. "Some'ne out t'ere? Damn door won' open."  
  
Drake shook himself coming back to the door. He turned the knob easily and the door opened only slightly, Remy catching it on the other end. Gambit's tired and worn face peered around the door, smiling softly. "T'anks, Ami, I..." he trailed off, eyes lifting to Bobby's face. "Bobby?" he whispered softly, eyes wide, disbelieving. Bobby started to say something, but Remy's arms were suddenly around him so tightly, pulling him so close, that his mouth just hung open, no words coming out.  
  
Bobby hesitated only a second before wrapping his own arms around his lover. Both men stood in the hallway, embracing, for all the world to see. Something Bobby had never been comfortable with before. Now, however, he couldn't have let go of Remy if Apocalypse was there trying to pry them apart with a crowbar.  
  
Remy's face was buried in his hair, his voice muffed as he spoke the same words in French over and over again. Bobby rubbed his back, soothingly. It didn't take much for him to realize what was wrong. Remy had had a nightmare. Having been with him many nights where these night terrors had come upon his lover, Bobby knew how troubling they were, just as if he'd had them himself. Remy's poor subconscious was always fighting with his waking mind, the two battling over feeling responsible for past deeds and the need to let them rest.  
  
"Are you really 'ere, char?" Gambit whispered softly, nuzzling Bobby's hair, smelling his shampoo. "Are you anot'er dream?"  
  
Bobby smile, kissing his shoulder lightly. "I'm here, Rem. I'm sorry...I couldn't just stay there without you. Please don't be mad."  
  
Remy's smile could be felt as he pressed his lips to Drake's cheek. "Remy n't mad, cher. Prob'ly should be...b't I'm 'appy yer 'ere. You don' know h'w 'appy I am t' see you 'ere." He squeezed Bobby tighter, then pulled away only far enough for his mouth to find and capture his partner's. Forgetting about his bags sitting in the hallway, Bobby let Remy pull him into the hotel room and closed the door behind them. No more words were said that night. No more needed to be said. 


End file.
